


All these years

by Oh_Toasty



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Hellenistic Religion & Lore, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, BAMF Stiles, Deal With the Devil, Deals with gods, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Immortal Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Magic, Magic Stiles, Past Lives, Pederasty, Reincarnated Peter Hale, Reincarnation, Stiles has magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 20:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6391501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_Toasty/pseuds/Oh_Toasty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has a long history, it comes with life as an immortal. It doesn't matter though, not when his history is intertwined with that of his lover. For that privilege, he doesn't even mind the pain immorality brings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All these years

It must be done, Stiles reminds himself as he throws the Molotov at Peter and braces himself for the sensation of burning. It doesn't come, the werewolf catches the cocktail and Stiles feels momentarily relieved enough to relax.

Then Allison shoots it and his entire world catches fire. Peter's burning and alongside him as Stiles can barely stifle the screams forming in his throat at the unexpected pain.

It's all over to quickly, and Stiles finds the added pain of a sliced throat on top of the invisible burns he feels. It won't go away, he knows from experience that the pain will remain until Peter is reincarnated.

These are his cross to bear, his penance for his failure to save Peter.

Months go by, nobody notices how Stiles had changed. The fact that he flinches away from the touch of others and groans in pain isn't relevant, not when Scott only focuses on Allison these days and he can use magic to prevent the wolves from smelling his pain. Everyone is clueless, until the day Derek corners him in an empty locker room and slams him into a wall.

A scream forces it's way out of Stiles's throat and the raw power it contains shakes the very foundation of the building they occupy causing chunks of plaster to fall from the ceiling. Stiles curses himself for his lack of control as Derek stares at him with a look that is a strange mixture of fear and worry. It's in that moment that Stiles knows the building wasn't his only involuntary magic worked during his momentary lapse of control. He has accidentally cast the spell that reveals an image embodying the not really there injuries he feels.

"What are you," Derek asks eyes flickering to the partially collapsed roof before back to Stiles's burnt visage and torn throat. "What is this?"

"So much more than you can ever understand," Stiles warns Derek. "I suggest you let it go."

The threat carried by Stiles tone of voice is enough for him to back away, but Derek still watches as the other man snaps his fingers and the injuries disappear.

"I have one question," he admits.

"Ask," Stiles orders. "Maybe I'll even answer."

"Does it hurt?"

The laughter that escapes Stiles is dry, brittle, and perhaps a tinge hysterical.

"More than you could ever imagine, just not in the way you're thinking."

Then Derek blinks, and Stiles is gone.

After that, when the two came into contact, Derek will draw pain from Stiles and his knees will almost buckle as he realizes just how much there is. It's not just Stiles's pain he notices though, he also comes to realize the teen seems to have never ending reserves of knowledge regarding the supernatural and begins to defer to them when a time to make decisions comes (he's not meant to be an alpha, he knows that).

"Lydia is killing people, whether or not she knows it! We can't let the kanima continue," Derek argues only to grow frightened when Stiles's whole apartment building shakes.

"Listen to me," Stiles hisses, "Lydia Martin is a lot of things, but not a kanima. If you want a Kanima look at Jackson Whitmore, even then death isn't necessary. You just need him to realize who he is, and you Lydia for that, so touch one hair on her head and I'll tear you apart. Now leave, I'll take care of this myself."

Derek fights the urge to whimper as he nods, he knows Stiles has more power than he's showing, knows that even though Stiles is in constant pain it doesn't mean he's weak. As Derek walks away, Stiles smirks knowing that if he was in wolf form, his tail would be between his legs.

It's two weeks after Stiles takes care of the kanima issue that he wakes up without excruciating pain. His heart jumps for joy, but at the same time he remains highly suspicious: Peter has never been back so quickly before. Yet there it is, the tether that links him to Peter.

He follows it, knowing it won't dissipate until he's seen the new reincarnation with his own eyes. Then it will relax until Peter finally comes of age.

Or so he believes, until he finds himself standing in an apartment with a fully grown Peter exactly like the one who had died just months ago.

"Well," Stiles huffs causing Peter to whirl around and drop into a defensive crouch, "This is new and trust me, I can't say that very often these days."

"Stiles," Peter greets but his voice is cold, dangerous, and just plain wrong. "Why are you here? In fact, how did you know to come here, only two people know I'm alive and neither knows where I live."

"Call it intuition," Stules smiles cheekily. "As to why I'm here, you need to remember."

"Remember?" Peter inquires with false politeness. "What exactly should I be recalling?"

"Remember," Stiles repeats and this time his voice drips with magical compulsion.

Peter drops to his knees as memories of his first life in ancient Greece return, their last moment together standing out the most:

_"Agathangelos," he mutters and reaching out to caress his sweet eromenos._

_"No," he objects. "This is my fault, damn it Apollyōn. You promised me that you'd be there even after our paiderastia had finished."_

_"It will be alright," he promises, but he knows it isn't true. His limbs already grow to heavy for him to lift and blood leaks out of the wound in his belly._

_Agathangelos's eyes light up suddenly, and he worriedly wonders what his lover is thinking of. It can't be good, not if he plans to use it to salvage the situation._

_He's right, Agthangelos pulls his dagger from his sheath and slices his arm once pouring the wound's blood on to his wound._

_"Apollo," his eromenos begins, "Patron God of healing and manly beauty, I call on thee to ask you to heal Apollyōn who carries a variation of your names and serves you as a man of beauty. In return I offer you my blood."_

_"What are you doing?" He asks numbly, but his lips barely move and Agathangelos ignores him to continue adding another cut to his arm and more blood to the puddle opening on his chest._

_"This blood, and more I dedicate to the goddess Aphrodite as I plead for your acceptance that my lover should live so that I may have my erastes to give me love the way you say all men should experience."_

_Another slice, more blood, another prayer begins._

_"Lastly, I offer this blood to the god Hades God of the underworld. I ask that should my lover slip away, he be returned to me. As payment for forfeiting his debt to you, I offer my own soul, given twenty years earlier then the dates have declared."_

_Then Agathangelos presses his fists into the pool of blood and sends all his magic into the prayer._

_There's a thundering boom and a pure white light that feels as if it's burning his eyes away, then three figures step in front of him to stare at his beloved. He can't see them well except for the dim figure of Agathangelos bowing, his eyes are fading along with his soul, but he can still hear._

_"Apollo, Aphrodite, Hades, I thank you for your presence." His lover says quietly._

_A light tinkering laugh floats through the air and he knows it is Aphrodite, "We thank you for your prayers young one."_

_"Its been a long time since I've felt such power," A sharp biting voice answers and it could only be Hades._

_Apollo chimes in next, "Indeed, it was certainly enough to intrigue me. But tell us little mortal, why should we help?"_

_"I can offer you nothing you have not already seen for yourself as omniscient as gods are," Stiles admits, "But I offer myself and anything of mine you may desire."_

_"I desire nothing, but to watch how this plays out," Hades says. "Your lover will die and I will send him back."_

_Then he is gone, leaving only the other two gods with Agathangelos. Aphrodite taps a finger against her lips thoughtfully before she leans down to kiss the mortal's forehead._

_"I have blessed you with eternal youth and life. You will not age, and will be forever beautiful. Your lover however, I can not help with, his life lies in Apollo's hands."_

_Then she too is gone and Stiles falls to his knees before the remaining God._

_"Apollo," he says desperation evident in his voice. "What must I offer for your assistance?"_

_"Nothing little mortal," the god says amusement clear in his voice. "You must only agree to something for me."_

_"Anything!" Agthangelos says wildly. "Whatever you wish."_

_"Your lover shall not heal in this body, but when Hades returns his soul it shall be situated in a new body ready to reawaken his memories when he comes of age. This will continue for as long as you remain alive, an eternity if Aphrodite has worked her magic well."_

_"Thank you," he sobs, but Apollo shakes his head._

_"Hush now, I'm telling you what you've agreed to. For every body I am forced to create for your lover, you shall endure the pain of his last until his soul has been situated in its new home."_

_"Very well," Agathangelos agrees and Apollo leaves._

_As his eyes flutter closed one last time, Agathangelos kneels besides him to whisper, "In the next life Apollyōn."_

From there more memories of other lives flutter into his head though none are quite as prominate as their first. When the process completes Peter is kneeling on the floor with Stiles right before him.

"Are you alright?"

"You're an idiot," Peter replies and Stiles's smile grows.

"I guess that means you remember at least some of our lives."

"I remember them all," Peter says gesturing for Stiles to approach. Then, when he is within touching range he snags the magic users wrists and pins him against the wall as he nuzzles his face into the crook of Stiles neck.

"Why'd you wait so long," Peter asks trailing his lips up Stiles neck to murmur in his ear. "You had plenty of opportunities before the fire to tell me."

"I tried once," Stiles admits and Peter stops his trail of kisses long enough to stop and look at Stiles. "You were twenty and reading in a bookshop. I approached you, and you snarled at me as you flared your eyes and told me to er off your territory. I guessed that some wolf part of you found my immortality as wrong, so I figured I'd leave until you're next life."

"Then why come back at all?"

"I learned you were in a coma. So I came here and worked odd jobs around town for a four years, then when I felt you were close to awakening, I enrolled in high school as an emancipated teenager and tried to stay occupied so I wouldn't focus on you as much."

"I'd much rather you did focus on me," Peter purrs as he reaches for Stiles's belt buckle.

"I think I can manage that," the immortal gasps as he's led to bed.

Several hours later, they're comfortably sprawled across the bed when Stiles's phone rings.

"Ignore it," Peter suggests helpfully when he feels Stiles start to move.

"Can't," he grunts. "It's either Scott, which means I need to keep up pretenses about being a normal teen, or Derek."

Peter snarls at the latter name, "Why does he have your number?"

Stiles laughs as he picks up the phone with one hand and gently pats Peter's stomach from the other.

"You're jealous, how cute." Stiles coos, "You know he's isn't the one I practically endured a form of eternal life. Also, he has this number because he learned to bow down before me when it comes to dealing with monsters he isn't familiar with."

Then Stiles flips open the phone and Peter leans forwards, not bothering to hide that he can hear every word they both say.

"Stiles," Derek chokes out. "There's an emergency!"

"What sort of emergency," Stiles asks in boredom as he gently plays with Peter's fingers.

Derek groans lowly, "As in there's a man who just appeared out of nowhere in a burst of light, and is pointing a bow at me and claiming to be Apollo."

"Ill be there in three seconds," Stiles informs him, voice deadly serious. Then he makes one swift motion in which he hangs up the phone and grabs Peter, teleporting them out of there.

They appear behind Apollo, but there's no doubt in Stiles's mind that Apollo knows the instant they begin to appear. He turns slowly, un-notching his arrow as he does so and laughing silently as he sees Derek scamper past him to hide behind the two he knows.

"Apollo," Stiles greets as both he and Peter bow low; a gesture of respect that says despite what the rest of humanity has done, they have not forgotten their gods.

"Rise children," Apollo laughs. "There is no need now, not when our followings are all but gone."

"But not completely gone, nephew." Hades states as he emerges from a new cloud of light, closely followed by Aphrodite. "Dear little Agathangelos still worships us, as well as his beloved."

"A pleasure to see you two together for once," Aphrodite tells Stiles before turning to Peter, "I only seem to visit when you're dead."

"Not a surprise," Peter smiles, "If you look at it relatively, I do spend a lot of the time dead. This was my quickest resurrection yet."

"And," Apollo interjects, "It is also why I am here. Agthangelos, when we made our deal I said you would only suffer for everybody I craft Apollyōn. I fear I have wronged you, for in this last death of his, I did not watch carefully enough and see that he would repair himself. Instead, I foolishly assumed things would follow their regular course and I would be in charge of it so I gave you the pain of his death. In return for this misstep of mine, I have come to tell you I will not bring you the pain of his next murder. If he dies of a peaceful cause, you will still feel the pain: I am saving this for a painful death since you experienced a painful death."

"I thank you," Stiles smiles as he bows low again.

"Now," Hades smirks his eyes focusing in on Derek. "Who is this dull little wolf hiding behind you?"

"Derek," Peter introduces.

Aphrodite repeats the name with a smile gracing her lips, "Derek, my oh my, aren't you gorgeous?"

"Young too," Apollo remarks. "Which is the only reason you've shown an interest, you haven't seen a young soul since we met Agthangelos."

"Stiles," The goddess corrects an upon receiving a curious gaze she shrugs, "We met for tea a few centuries ago and he said that was his preferred name."

"Very well, Stiles then," Hades says as he faces the immortal. "We must take our leave, but we shall try to come and see you within the next millennium."

"Millennium," Derek squeaks in confusion causing the gods to laugh as they walk back into a cloud of white light.

"Yes Derek," Peter sighs as he faces his nephew. "Millennium, Stiles has already been alive for, what, two and a half?"

"About," Stiles nods. "Shouldn't you know, your first reincarnation was around that time also."

"What the hell is going on, how do you two even know one another?" Derek asks voice rising in hysteria.

"Well," Stiles begins. "As we said it all started about two thousand five hundred years ago........"

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
